


welcome to the final show (i hope you're wearing your best clothes)

by Hazloveshisboo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Post Series, a WHOLE lot of fluff, a fix it fic for season 8, a lot of intimacy, and the ending in general, but they are very close, its very sweet, jonsa baby, just sweet and fluff, thats all - Freeform, there is no actual smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 09:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18938248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazloveshisboo/pseuds/Hazloveshisboo
Summary: Jon finds his way back to Winterfell after the events of season 8.





	welcome to the final show (i hope you're wearing your best clothes)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my response to the shit show that was the series finale. 
> 
> Title from Sign of the Times by Harry Styles

“We know no queen in the North but the queen whose name is Stark!” the words echoed in Sansa’s mind as she got ready for bed the night of her coronation. She was finally in charge of herself - mind, body, and soul. But not heart. 

No. Her heart was north, at Castle Black. 

She sat at her dressing table, braiding her hair into a simple plait. She had much to the next day, her first full day as queen, but her thoughts continued to stray to her half-brother turned cousin. Before they had all left Kings Landing, she had taken him aside and offered to pardon him once they crossed into the North - she would be queen, she could overturn his sentence, especially with the Unsullied and Dothraki leaving Westeros - but Jon had declined. He said he needed to back to the Wall. 

Sansa’s heart had cracked at his words. She was queen, yes, the first queen the North had ever seen, and yet she still felt empty. Her family was scattered once more across the lands. Bran would spend his life in King’s Landing, Arya would - well, Gods knows where Arya would be on any given day, and Jon was at the Wall. Even Brienne had remained with Bran in King’s Landing and Ghost was north with Jon. Sansa was alone once more. 

Sansa finished off her braid and stared at herself in the reflection of the looking glass and then down at her crown where it lay. She ran her finger over it, wishing it was part of a matching set. She stood and made her way over to the bed, climbing under the furs. It took her a while to drift off, but eventually, she managed, darkness falling over her. 

*  
Three moons into Sansa’s reign as queen, she began noticing someone around Winterfell. She was sure it was a man, with dark hair and a beard to match, though she never got a good look at his face. She only saw him in the corner of her eye, in shadowy passages or corners of the room. While she was suspicious of the stranger, she didn’t mention it to her guards as for some reason she did not feel scared and, in fact, she felt almost safe when she saw the man. 

A fortnight after Sansa first noticed the man, she retired to her chambers to find someone already waiting for her - a white direwolf with bright red eyes. 

“Ghost!” Sansa cried out and rushed forward, wrapping her arms around the beast with no hesitation. She clung to Ghost, one of the only surviving members of her family. She felt Ghost nuzzle against her and pulled back, giggling softly as he licked her cheek. “What are you doing here, boy? Where’s Jon?” She was a bit nervous that Ghost was here, seemingly without his owner - but how would he have gotten into her chambers?

“He’s right here,” Sansa stood and turned around immediately to see the man that had been wandering the castle standing just to the right of the door. When he stepped forward, into the firelight and Sansa was finally able to get a good look at his face she was able to recognize him - recognize the shape of his nose, the color of his eyes, and the scar spanning his cheek. 

“Jon…” Sansa choked, staring at the man across the room from her. “You’re really here?”

“Aye,” Jon nodded and walked forward a bit more. “I had a promise to keep.” 

“And what promise was that?” Sansa asked, standing up straight. She stared Jon down, trying to show her disapproval of his sudden reappearance but she feared her utter delight and relief was betraying her. 

“I promised to protect you. I can’t do much from the Wall,” Jon said and moved even closer to Sansa. She let him and made no move to back away from his advance. 

“Then why did you go in the first place? The Dragon Queen’s army left far before you reached the Wall and neither myself nor Bran wanted you there in the first place,” Sansa could feel her voice become thick with tears. She had missed her family - more than anything, and here Jon stood telling her he was always going to come back. 

“I had some things I needed to work through before I could be here for you Sansa. And you don’t deserve a broken man,” Jon said sheepishly. Sansa frowned and finally moved forward to stand in front of Jon. 

“Whatever made you think that I didn’t want you exactly as you already were?” Sansa whispered, bringing one hand up to cup Jon’s cheek. 

“I know you would have taken me, but it was about what you deserved,” Jon replied and smiled small, tight. “I am here however you want me, Sansa.”

“And what if I just want you?” her voice was barely audible even in the silence of her chambers. 

“Then you shall have just me,” Jon rested his head against Sansa’s, his breath fanning against her lips. Sansa closed her eyes and leaned in just as Ghost whined from his spot on the bed. Jon and Sansa both laughed, pulling back from each other to look over at the direwolf. Ghost tilted his head at them and opened his mouth, tongue lolling out the side. 

“I suppose it is time to rest,” Sansa said and completely removed herself from Jon’s hold. “Will you be staying in here with me?” 

“Would you like me to, Your Grace?” Jon asked, a teasing lilt coming through. Sansa rolled her eyes.

“Of course I would. Now, I need you to unlace my dress,” she turned her back to Jon, placing her hands on the post of the bed frame to keep herself steady. She heard Jon’s breath hitch and then his hands tentatively touch her back as he pulled at the laces. Her dress slowly loosened around her chest and she let her arms fall, her dress falling to her hips. He unlaced her underdress next and let that one fall as well, leaving her shift the only fabric between the skin of his hands and her back. She turned slightly and took Jon’s hand to aid her in stepping out of her dresses, stockinged feet cold on the floor. 

“You are…” Jon trailed off as he looked Sansa up and down. Sansa knew some of her scars were visible, her shift fairly thin and sheer compared to the rest of her clothing. “The most beautiful woman,” Jon finished, carefully reaching out to take hold of Sansa’s waist. 

“Am I? Even more beautiful than the Dragon Queen?” Sansa asked shyly, looking down at Jon with wide eyes. 

“No one can compare to you,” Jon took a step closer. “Kissed by fire and Northern blood? All I’ve ever wanted.” Sansa laid her hands on Jon’s shoulders. 

“You’re wearing far too many clothes to sleep in,” she whispered, biting her lip when she finished speaking. 

“Aye,” Jon laughed. “Perhaps you could help me undress?” Sansa smiled just a bit as she moved her hands down to pull at his belt, letting it fall to the floor once she had undone it. Next, she removed his doublet and let it drop as well. He was left in his breeches, tunic, and boots; however, when Sansa moved to kneel to unlace his boots, Jon stopped her before she could make it to the floor. 

“Jon?” Sansa asked, brows furrowing. 

“I’m not making you kneel for me, Sansa. Not for anything,” Jon said, grabbing her hand to press a kiss to her palm before dropping to his knees, unlacing his boots and pulling them off quickly. Instead of standing when he finished, he stayed in that position, moving a bit closer. Sansa felt tears form in her eyes at Jon’s word and the obvious sincerity behind them. “Can I take these off as well, my Queen?” His hands were trailing up her calves and toward her knees, over her silk stockings. 

“I think that would be quite alright,” Sansa agreed. She watched as Jon slowly began pulling her stockings down her legs, one by one. She lifted each leg to allow him to remove them completely. As Jon stood again, he let his hands drag over her thighs, lifting her shift slightly as the hem caught on his fingers. Once they were face to face, Sansa tugged at his tunic to pull it from his breeches and lifted his it over his head, it soon joining the rest of their clothes on the floor. Sansa’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the scars on his chest for the first time. 

“Are these…?” she asked hesitantly. At Jon’s nod, she let her fingers gently caress the marred skin. “Just like mine.” 

“Aye, just like yours.” Jon began unlacing his breeches until Sansa stopped him and continued herself, pushing them down his legs, leaving him in just his smallclothes. 

“I need to plait my hair,” Sansa said, breaking the momentary silence. Jon nodded and stepped back so she could move to her dressing table. He watched as she sat down and carefully removed her crown, setting it on the cushion. She watched Jon in the looking glass as she plaited her hair over her shoulder, fingers moving deftly. She tied it off and let her hands fall to her lap. 

“Come, my Queen. It’s time for you to rest,” Jon took Sansa’s hand and helped her stand, leading her to the bed. Sansa was a bit surprised. 

“You don’t want to-” Jon cut her off before she could finish her sentence. 

“I do, Sansa. Believe me that I want to more than anything. But not tonight. We will have plenty of time for everything else. Tonight, I’ll hold you,” Jon brushed a few stray hairs from her face and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Down, Ghost,” he commanded, the direwolf climbing off the bed and curling in front of the fire instead. Jon pulled back the furs and stood aside to allow Sansa to get in first. Once she was settled, Jon crowded in next to her and laid his arm over her waist. “Is this okay?”

“More than,” Sansa muttered, reaching up to brush some curls from Jon’s face. “You need a haircut. It’s grown quite long since you’ve been gone.” 

“Mayhaps you could do it for me tomorrow?” Jon suggested, pulling Sansa close so their bodies were touching at almost every point. 

“As long as you’ll be here tomorrow to allow me to,” Sansa said teasingly, though she was slightly scared she would wake and he would be gone as if she had dreamt the whole thing. 

“I’ll be here tomorrow and every day to come,” he promised, nuzzling his nose against hers, their lips only a breaths width apart. 

“I look forward to it,” Sansa said with a smile, feeling for the first time in a long time like she was truly home. 

*  
The door opened and Sansa looked up to see Jon enter the room, heaving a sigh. “Are you both alright?”

“We’re healthy and happy,” Sansa giggled a little and looked down at the babe in her arms, lips attached to her breast and suckling. “Come meet your daughter.” Jon moved closer to the bed and slowly sat down next to her. “Have you decided on a name?” 

“Not quite,” Sansa stroked a finger over the babe’s sparse hair. “I had a couple I was thinking of. Lyanna, after your mother, or Arya. Or, we could do a traditionally Stark name, Lyarra.”

“I like that one,” Jon looked down at their babe. “She looks like a Lyarra.” 

“I think so too,” Sansa nodded as the babe - Lyarra - pulled away. “The North’s future queen.” 

“Not for a long time yet,” Jon said as he kissed Sansa’s head. “You’ve got a long life yet, and a long time to rule. And you’re going to be amazing at it.” Sansa smiled at him. 

“And what shall you be doing while I am ruling? Not much a consort has to do,” Sansa scratched a nail over Jon’s cheek. “Take care of the children?”

“And how many children do you plan on having? An army?” Jon raised his eyebrows.

“If that’s what the Gods want,” Sansa leaned in and kissed Jon sweetly, leaning their foreheads together. “Lyarra is just the first of many, my love.”

“I can’t wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://hazloveshisboo.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I love writing Jonsa fic and I have an idea for another fic but let me know if there's any prompts you want to be written and I will more than likely be happy to fill them!


End file.
